Have no qualms my people. Put down that grog, come with me, feel with me, the traffic as it slows in dispastic ups and splurts, splat at out and go, come with me down the colon of disaffected dysentery, carbo govt directed bum pipe, Out the back door, sitting on the shitter, spraying the bowl, around it your kids gather aglow in satan’s flow, feast upon the shat out mess of the west.
God works through evolution.
Sneaking up amongst trees, down under undergrowth, sleeps and slinks, snakes emptiness black murky slime sludge. In there, sun reflected glory, shafts of rays like mirror light splay, upon eyes even still, somewhere else if you can look, more that skulks and hides.
My will, my ego:
My choice.
